She looked so broken and fragile.
When she'd come out of the shower, wearing only a towel in her apartment earlier, I remembered the life-changing kiss we shared at the safe house over a month ago. This had caused me to be in a state of arousal. Shame and disgust had consumed me. What the hell……she's hurt, and there I was thinking of getting in her pants. Thank God I possessed enough sense to walk away and into her bathroom.
As I continue to cradle her head against my shoulder while on the plane my phone pings with a message from Dante.
Dante:
Cargo shipped without a hitch. How is Elle?
I quickly type, not wanting to wake her up.
Dominic:
She’s traumatized, when I got there a scumbag was attempting to violate her. We should be landing shortly.
Chapter 13
~Elle~
As I’m being chased into the dark alley, his maniacal laughter taunts me. The sound is getting closer. I duck behind a dumpster. Squeezing my body into the space between it and the wall. My heart races as the footsteps are getting closer.
“Come out, come out, little mouse…you can’t get away from me.” He says in a sing-song creepy voice.
“You’re already caught in my trap.” He says menacingly and his laughter resumes.
“Got you!” There’s a note of triumph when I’m grabbed by the leg and dragged out of my hiding spot.
“It’s time for the cat to play with his mouse.” My hands are held above my head, I struggle, as he reaches for my pants, tugging it down my thighs. Screaming, I trash about trying to nudge his huge frame off my body.
I get a good look at his face. It’s the face of the man whose throat, Dominic slit, days ago. And I screamed.
My screaming intensifies before I’m shaken and awakened by Dominic. He’s sitting at the side of my bed. I throw my arms around his neck. I'm trying to slow my racing heart and get the horrible image out of my head. Whenever I wake up from one of these nightmares, I’m relieved that it wasn’t real. “Are you ok, Elle?” “Yes, it was just a nightmare. Sorry to wake you again.” I murmur against his naked chest. My lips rub against the hard muscles. His arms tighten briefly around me, as he rubs my back in comfort.
“Do you want to tell me about it?” Dominic asks like he has done each time he’s woken me from one of my nightmares. “No.” I know that he wants me to talk about feelings and what I went through but I can’t.
After pretending to fall asleep Dominic slides me gently onto the bed and covers me with the blanket before leaving my bedroom. It’s been three days since Dominic brought me into his home. Which is not a mere house but a mansion.
The bruises on my face and neck have started to fade. But the trauma of the attack hasn’t and it continues to haunt me.
Every night for the last three nights I’ve had the same nightmare. The image of my attacker in my sleep brings the memory of his last gruesome moments back. I’ve seen death before. But not death associated with such violence. What bothers me more, is not the way he died. I feel such guilt, because I felt satisfaction from watching his horrible final moments. Even though I know that deserved it after what he almost did to me.
Each night the nightmare results in me screaming and trashing about in my sleep. And every night, I’m awakened by Dominic who rushes into my room, on hearing my screams of terror. When he leaves me alone in the aftermath of my nightmare, shame consumes me. I’ve dedicated my life to saving people. But I derived satisfaction from the gruesome way Dominic ended the bastard.
I’ve been sleeping a lot during the day. Afraid to go back to sleep at night once I’ve had the nightmare. It doesn’t occur during the day for which I’m grateful. Dominic has been trying to get me to speak about my nightmare, but I can’t bring myself to. I’ve hardly left the bedroom in the three days I’ve been here.
Again, as the light peaks through the drapes of the bedroom window indicating the start of a new day, I finally fall asleep. Later, I’m awakened by a persistent knocking on my door. Groaning, I rub my eyes to dispel my sleepiness.
In a rush to put a stop to the incessant knocking, my legs become tangled in the sheets as I attempt to get up. I tumble off the bed with a screech and somehow become cocooned in a massof sheets and blankets. The absurdity of the situation causes me to howl in laughter.
The door bursts open and Dominic rushes in; his right arm raised with his gun pointed, ready to defend me. He pauses just inside the door clearly confused by the debacle in front of him. The arm that holds the gun falls at his side.
“What the hell Elle! I thought you were being attacked.” When I see his bemused expression, my peal of laughter intensifies.
“Yeah, death by blankets,” I laugh until I cry. Dominic slides his gun into the waistband of his pants and crosses his arm across his chest. Looking at me in amusement. I attempt to untangle myself but succeed only in becoming wrapped up more securely.
Blowing out a breath of frustration, I stopped struggling. “Are you going to keep looking at me like I’m one of the eight wonders of the world?” I say in exasperation, “or are you going to help me?
He snaps into action. Stooping next to my prone body, then he starts to slowly unwrap the blanket. Progress was being made but it was too slow for my taste. I attempt to hasten the process by wriggling about and tugging. As I tug on the blanket that he’s currently trying to free me from, I pull Dominic off balance. He falls over my chest with his arms at the sides of my head. Keeping his weight from crushing me.
